


envy

by lilbabyc



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Misunderstandings, One Shot, Reader-Insert, reader is very emotional, we love an overused trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:35:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22037164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilbabyc/pseuds/lilbabyc
Summary: at one of tony's parties, the reader and her green-eyed monster show some concern over steve's relationship with a certain shield agent.
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 115





	envy

**Author's Note:**

> we back :)) any feedback is welcome and greatly appreciated!! i hope you enjoy this one :)

You hate to admit it, but you’re jealous.

That slimy green-eyed monster is rearing its ugly head over your shoulder, teeth glinting in the low lights of one of Tony’s parties. It sidles up right next to you, breathing all sorts of lies and falsehoods in your ear, urging you to act or become enraged. Currently, you’re doing an _okay_ job of ignoring it but the longer that it stays perched on your shoulder, its long claws digging into your flesh, the more frustrated you get. Its green eyes are beady and burn holes into the side of your face; you grimace, promptly choosing to ignore its piercing glare.

Your grip on the stem of your champagne glass tightens enough that your fingers start to become sore, and the sudden urge to swallow the contents of your glass becomes unbearable. She lays her hand on his shoulder as she laughs - _cackles,_ you think bitterly - and he places a hand on her waist in response. You can’t seem to help the roll of your eyes and your shiny black red bottoms start to make themselves over to where Tony and Wanda are sat.

Wanda looks up as you approach, offering you a bright smile. Your face automatically reciprocates the sentiment, her happiness infectious. Since the death of Pietro, you know how much Wanda has been struggling to find her place within the team. She reminds you an awful lot of yourself, so you’ve taken it upon yourself to help her integrate into the group.

“Hi, Y/N,” she greets you, shifting on the sofa and patting the space next to her invitingly. You sink into the couch and Wanda winds an arm around your neck, kissing your cheek dramatically when Tony looks up from where he’s been swirling a glass of whisky contemplatively and smirks at you.

“Hey there, sweet cheeks,” he calls you affectionately, eyes softening at your presence. As Tony’s ‘apprentice’ - _“...you know I’m your mentor, kid… no, I’m not gonna be modest because I pretty much made you, honey… I might as well have given birth to you too...”_ \- you’ve been working alongside the Avengers for years. You’re the person behind the desk - the information that they get before missions, during missions, and after missions all comes from you. As their main source of communication, there is little time to rest but you do consider every member of the team a close friend by now. Tony… God, Tony is like your dad. In fact, you call him ‘dad’ upon his insistence - sometimes in jest, sometimes seriously. Your family became distant after learning that you were working with the ‘Earth’s mightiest heroes’ ~~they must not have seen Thor drunk before~~ because some of the Avenger's work doesn’t ‘align with their personal beliefs’ - _bullshit_ \- and you hadn’t spoken to them in years. So when Tony took you under his wing when you were but a mere teenager after originally hiring you as his personal assistant’s assistant, you were nothing but grateful to the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.

“Hi, Wanda, hey, Tones,” you address them both, heaving a tired sigh while your eyes subconsciously drift back to where your favorite Avenger is standing with your _favorite_ SHIELD agent. Tony opens his mouth to start teasing you about the length of your spaghetti-strapped sparkly red dress - planning to make some teasing comment like _Y/N, who let you leave the house showing that much skin? Go back and change this instant!_ \- but he sees where your attention has been redirected. Wanda stares at the side of your head intently for a few seconds before a secret little smile appears on her face. 

“How’s Steve, Y/N?” she questions in an innocent tone, watching you jump and snap your head back around so fast that you get a little bit of whiplash. 

“Uh, S-Steve?” you stutter. “W-why - uh - why would I know about Steve?” 

Tony rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his drink before placing it back down on the table in front of him. He smacks his lips together loudly and licks them afterwards, seemingly exasperated. You raise a challenging eyebrow at him in response and he stares back at you flatly.

“I think I can speak for the whole team when I say that I’m tired of you and Capsicle dancing around each other,” he looks nonchalantly over his right shoulder before turning back to you with that same look in his eyes. “Not that he can really dance anyway - _that awkward motherfucker_ \- but if you had the balls to go up to him, sweetie, then maybe you could teach him.”

Your surrogate father’s brown eyes bear into yours and you twist your mouth to the side in embarrassment, quickly avoiding his gaze. “Dad-”

“Listen, Y/N, if you don’t go talk to him about all of your gross teenage-like feelings then I will,” he threatens with all of the indifference in the world. 

Wanda nods her head in agreement, looking at you sympathetically but with a glint of mischief in her eyes. You narrow your own at her in suspicion but she only smiles at you.

“There’s no harm in trying,” she gently coaxes you and you bury your face in your newly well-manicured hands. The coolness of the flashy golden rings - _all gifts from Tony_ \- seeps into your skin, overheating from the stress of the situation and the heat from all of the bodies packed into the spacious area. Quickly, you realize that Wanda’s right and that the worst that could happen is rejection - _oh_ **_God_ ** \- so you abruptly stand up, hearing Wanda do a little _whoop!_ behind you.

The click of your heels on the expensive flooring of the lounge empowers you to put a little extra sway in your hips and straighten out your posture. A smile grows on your deep-red, glossed lips as you get closer to the bar. Natasha and Bruce are having a conversation right next to where Steve and Shannon - no, _Stella_ … _Sharon_ are speaking. Natasha assesses your demeanor and smirks knowingly, shooting you a quick wink. A quick panic seizes you, almost stopping your strut - _I need a drink._ So on your way to Steve and _Sharon_ , you grab the champagne glass from in front of Nat and she puckers her lips at you, blowing you a kiss. You blow one back in the same fashion, finally stopping in front of Steve and _Sharon._

Admittedly, she looks great. Her blonde hair is down in loose waves - it frames her face really nicely. Her makeup is subtle but really accentuates her best features. Her dress sweeps the floor and is a simple light grey silk. You fight the urge to scoff - to her credit, she’s beautiful and you’re even more jealous than before. Great.

Steve’s head turns when he sees you out of the corner of his eye, and your breath catches in your throat. He’s wearing grey slacks that really _hug_ his thighs and ass - _yum_ \- and the white shirt that he’s chosen to wear instead of his regular blue plaid ones makes your mouth literally _water._ It’s not that you don’t appreciate the blue shirts because if there’s anyone who appreciates anything and everything that Steve does, it’s you. But the _white_ … it’s crisp and clean and reminds you of when you used to run through the white flags of your mother’s laundry hung in your backyard, lush green grass staining the soles of your small feet. The soft cotton of the simple shirt somehow brings out the color of his eyes, and they’re looking more like blueberries than the ocean tonight. He’s clean-shaven with his hair neatly styled and the sleeves of his collared shirt are rolled up his forearms casually. His shirt isn’t buttoned all the way up to the top - _thank God for Sam_ \- and one of those _strong capable_ hands is nursing a glass with barely any liquor inside. You quickly realize that it’s Asgardian liquor because Steve actually wants to _enjoy himself tonight_ (?). 

Those full lips spread around his perfect teeth in a grin and his hand falls from Sharon’s waist, a small sense of victory flowing through you. But then you reign yourself back in, knowing that you haven’t won the battle… yet. 

“Good evening, Captain,” you address Steve with what you hope is a sultry smirk on your face. You nod towards Sharon as something of an afterthought, making sure that you’re being polite and smile sweetly at her: “Agent Carter.”

You don’t wanna be a total bitch and be super rude to her, because, really, what does that ever accomplish? You decide that you’re going to be civil, despite the fact that that green-eyed _bastard_ is growling in your ear to _rip her throat out_ or some violent shit like that. 

Steve beams and assesses your appearance quickly before looking right back at your eyes. _What a gentleman_. “Hey, doll. You look great.”

Your cheeks hurt from how much you’re smiling and flirtily, you bat your eyelashes at him. “Thanks, Steve. You look great too. I like this look… a lot.”

He chuckles, those baby blues still boring into you. You almost feel like shrinking underneath his heavy gaze but instead, you hold your head up high and continue beaming at him, taking a sip of champagne. You watch his eyes follow your lips as you lick them free of the drink, and his cheeks flush red when he sees that you’ve caught him.

“So how are you enjoying the party, Y/N?” Sharon asks amicably, seemingly unaware of the moment that’s just transpired. 

You decide to humor her: “I think it’s so nice that Tony wants to do these things for us… it’s super generous of him to host these parties. I’m loving it. But Sam left almost an hour ago, so I’ve been missing a dance partner for a little while now…”

You put your glass down and a cursory glance up at Steve has him springing into action, just like you hoped it would. “Come on, doll. I’ll dance with you.”

He grabs your hand swiftly and walks you to the dancefloor, not even sparing Sharon a glance. You feel slightly guilty - she hasn’t _really_ done anything wrong - and shoot her a sympathetic look over your shoulder as well as a small wave. She smiles genially back, waving you off and turning to face another group of SHIELD agents.

Once you and Steve reach the dancefloor, it’s obvious that Tony has watched the whole situation go down; he’s changed the music to something slower and a little more jazzy. Steve, almost on instinct, pulls you into his arms, pressing you close to his body. The scent that hits you has you instinctively leaning into him. It’s crisp and woodsy and smells like pine but also like clean linen and _him_. His hands frame your waist and your arms loosely wind around his neck, and the both of you sway to the smooth jazz.

“You’re quite light on your feet, Captain,” you wink at him, far more comfortable because it’s just the two of you. You feel the laugh that passes through him and you admire the little lines around his eyes when he’s like this.

“What can I say? I’ve had a lot of practice,” he grins cheekily. You raise an eyebrow and the grin spreads wider.

“Got a line of people at your door, Mr. America?” You tease, smirking slightly but also somehow scared of the answer.

He laughs again, twirling the both of you before stopping to look you square in the eye. You’re taken aback by the intensity of his gaze and your heart stutters. 

“Perhaps,” he shrugs. “But I’m never there to notice… I’m too busy knockin’ at someone else’s door.” 

You can feel it - the acute pain in your chest and the exact moment that your heart sinks. The little tickle in your nose warns you of impending tears and you sniff to try and rid yourself of the feeling. Your logical brain is telling you not to be _dumb_ and jump to conclusions, but the monster’s green eyes are full of rage. It whispers that all he really wants is Sharon and he’s just being polite, dancing here with you. 

“Oh,” you reply, trying your best to appear jovial when you can feel your heart breaking. “That’s cool. I’m sure she’s great.”

It’s a marvel that your voice doesn’t break.

He gets a dreamy look on his face and replies, “Yeah, she’s really something. Smart, hilarious, pretty… God, _so goddamn beautiful_. The way that I feel about her... I haven’t felt like that since Peggy.” 

He looks directly at your face but you can’t tell because you’ve averted your face to the side, too busy trying to control a rapid onslaught of tears. _Damn Tony, feeding you all these fanciful ideas._

“Well, she’s a lucky girl.”

That’s all you manage to get out before withdrawing from his arms and quickly striding towards the exit. 

\---

In the elevator, you try your best not to break down - _because that’s not classy_ \- and press the button to your floor. Taking deep breaths with closed eyes, you fail to notice when the elevator stops and Bucky gets on. 

“Doll.”

Your eyes shoot open and your head whips over to look at him. He wasn’t really all that keen to party and it shows. You can tell that he’s been training.He’s sweaty - his hair is slick with it - and he’s only wearing black basketball shorts and trainers, his metal arm on full display. You’re relieved that he’s the one that’s caught you like this. You and Bucky forged an unlikely friendship upon his arrival to the compound. Steve was overjoyed that his best friend had somebody else to talk to, as he was scared that he wouldn’t be able to relate to anyone else. You can easily consider him one of your closest friends, meaning that he also knows about the _Steve situation_.

“Hey, Buck,” you manage to breathe out, trying for a small smile.

“What happened? You’ve been crying.”

You scoff, trying for indifference, “No, I haven’t-”

Bucky pins you with a look and you shut your mouth, looking slightly guilty. “Was it Stevie?”

Your silence seems to be enough of an answer for him and he sighs, moving closer to you to encircle an arm around your shoulders. You turn into his side, shoving your face into his neck and throwing your arms around his neck. Slightly caught off guard, he stumbles back, but quickly reciprocates the hug.

By this time, you’ve reached your floor so you move to pull back from him but his grip on your waist only tightens. Without any strain, he sweeps you off of your feet and lifts you right out of the elevator. You squeal in surprise, sniffing while Bucky walks you to your room.

“FRIDAY…” Bucky begins to ask, but it seems as if the A.I. already knows what to do as she unlocks your door. He walks you over to the bedroom, placing you down on your bed gently and taking your shoes off. Without a word, he disappears and comes back with makeup wipes, tissues, a glass of wine, and a bagel. 

This makes you cry harder.

He hesitates in the doorway, looking at you with panic-flooded eyes. “Y/N, if you don’t want the bagel…”

You choke out a laugh and beckon him closer, shaking your head. He places the plate and Kleenex on your bed and hands you the glass of wine, grabbing a wipe to start taking off your makeup. 

“Now, let me take care of you while you tell me what that punk did,” he begins slowly, starting to rub at your jaw. 

You recount the story while sipping your wine, sniffing and choking at certain parts of the story. He shushes you quietly whenever he feels you struggling to speak and encourages you to take your time, all while continuing his work carefully. Once his job is done, he coaxes you to eat the bagel and sits next to you, rubbing your back gently.

“Look, Y/N,” he says. “Steve’s been incessant about how much he’s sweet on ya for the past couple months. I know he’s got a funny way of showing it, but I don’t think you shoulda run away from ‘im like that.”

You open your mouth to reply but are stopped by a voice in the doorway, “I second that.”

Tony’s leaning on the wall, that signature glint in his eyes full of mischief. 

“Dad,” you almost whimper, voice raw from crying, and his face softens considerably. “Don’t bully me.”

“Hey, hey, baby cakes,” he comes to squat in front of you and Bucky. “Don’t get all teary-eyed on me. You know my little heart can’t take it. What are you so emotional for? Rogers has been looking for you since you left.”

Your mood perks up at that. “Really?”

He gives you a lopsided smile, “Of course he has. I know it’s not easy. You were doin’ a good thing out there, all confident and sexy and whatever. I was like wow, look at my girl go.” That makes you laugh. “But then you did that dumb little thing you do - you freaked out, honey. Got all impatient and confused and wouldn’t let him finish his cheesy ass speech.”

“He’s right, doll,” Bucky nods his agreement. “As much as he shoulda made it clearer to you what he was talkin’ about, you could’ve stayed just a little longer.”

You hide your face in Bucky’s chest in embarrassment as Tony grips your hand between his. 

“Now, can I invite our favorite Capsicle in or are you gonna cry again?” the brown-eyed man in front of you teases. 

“He’s outside?” the panic in you spikes again. Tony rolls his eyes and squeezes your hand reassuringly. 

“Of course he is… loser,” he snorts derisively. You glare at him but he grins at you, telling FRIDAY to invite Steve in.

You can hear the soles of his shoes on the wooden floors of your apartment and you inhale deeply, straightening your back and pushing your chin up one more time.

He looks through with concern in his eyes and a sheepish look on his face. But he sees Bucky’s bare arm around your shoulders and something in his eyes changes for a split second; there’s an intensity there that you haven’t seen before.

Tony slaps his hands on his thighs before standing up abruptly, patting Bucky on the shoulder. “Alright, Manchurian Candidate. Let’s leave these two to it.”

Both men press a quick kiss to your forehead before heading out, closing the door softly behind them. As soon as they do, Steve stops his lingering at the door and rushes towards you, squatting in front of you like Tony was and framing your face in his hands. You blink rapidly, trying to process the close contact. Before you can think about anything else, his lips are on yours, completely catching you off guard.

They’re softer than they look and you melt into his embrace, his hands moving from your face to wrap his arms around your waist. He squeezes you gently and your hands cautiously come up to cup his face. It’s a soft kiss, despite the desperation in his movements, and you revel in the unspoken words shared between the two of you, communicated through feeling.

When it’s over, your lips are still tingling and he presses his forehead to yours, pecking your lips one more time.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he speaks quietly, almost as if he’s scared to interrupt the beauty and sanctity of the moment. “You know how I am. I get all tongue-tied talkin’ to dames already, but with you… God, it’s _so much worse_ . I completely get why you thought I was talking about Sharon. She’s a great friend - she’s really been there for me - but she’s not _you_ , baby.”

Your only response is a kiss pressed to his cheek and your fingers running through his hair. You sit like that for a little while, the silence stretching for several more minutes before you are composed enough to speak.

“I’m an idiot, Stevie,” you laugh, kissing his forehead this time. “I overreacted _so bad_ … I’m so embarrassed by it. I should’ve just let you finish.”

He rubs your back comfortingly, “That’s alright, Y/N. You’re in touch with your emotions - that’s not a bad thing. But you’re my best girl - I don’t wanna see any more tears.”

He wipes away the remaining tears on your face and you smile cheekily at him.

“Your best girl?”

“Always, doll.”


End file.
